


Melting

by TuppingLiberty



Series: Dream Daddy - Safe Universe [2]
Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Canon Trans Character, Domestic Craziness, Get together fic, Kids amirite, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2018-12-31 03:27:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12123522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TuppingLiberty/pseuds/TuppingLiberty
Summary: This is a companion piece to Safe, my fic about Brian and my dadson Jared. Same universe. This is how Craig and Damien got together.(Smut in Chapter 5)





	1. Chapter 1

“No, River, don’t-” Craig shuffles his phone. “One sec, I’ll be right back,” he says apologetically to the investor on the other side, setting the phone down on the counter and rushing over to take the piece of paperwork River had been about to tear further apart. “No sweetie, daddy needs this, okay?” 

She immediately starts wailing, and Craig looks frantically around for something to distract her. “Where’s your capybara?”

Just that second, the smell of burning mac and cheese starts to hit his nose, and he springs back toward the kitchen. “Shit-”

“Dad, you’re not supposed to say that word,” Hazel says, sliding open the door to the back because  _ of course she’s there to hear him and now she’s tinkling the swear jar. _

“Haze, can you find River’s toy? Or something? Oh god-” he pulls the smoking pot off the oven and rushes it to the sink to stop the smoking. River’s wails are getting louder. “No luck on that, Hazel?” he calls.

“I’m looking, I’m looking,” she replies, sounding like Craig had offended her very existence by asking. 

Briar walks through the sliding door next, and immediately heads for Craig. “Hey, dad, we need your help, and also we might be in trouble-” 

_ “What?! _ What kind of trouble?”

_ “Mr. Cahn, are you still- is this a good time?” _

_ Shitshitshit. _ Craig whirls to pick up the phone. “I’m sorry, everything in my house just kind of turned on me. But I’d love to talk about your investment- No, no, right, I understand, definitely. I’ll talk to you later.”  _ Shitshitshit _ **_shit._ **

The doorbell rings, and Briar jumps, pulling on Craig’s arm. “Don’t answer that.” 

“What?” Craig says dumbly, feeling like repeating himself is the only way to hold onto his sanity. 

Hazel comes out of nowhere, River up on her hip, to latch onto his other arm. “No, seriously, don’t answer that. It’s probably nothing important. Hey, we can  _ move, _ right? Nothing pressing keeping us here? Mom’s always saying about how a rolling stone gathers no moss. We’ve got moss! I saw it on the tree. We should move-” 

The doorbell rings again, though it’s not insistent. Just a polite little buzz. Still, his twins look panicked. Craig’s mouth sets in a firm line. 

“Okay, what happened?” He takes a step toward the front door, both of the girls trying to hold him back. 

“We might have-”

“Just a little-”

“Been playing some softball, you know-”

“Practicing, like you told us to, practice makes perfect, right?”

“And maybe-”

“We might have hit the ball over the fence-”

They’re talking over each other rapidly as Craig makes his way with some difficulty to the door. River, who had been fascinated, doesn’t  _ want _ to go to the door, and hates the doorbell, and starts wailing when it rings again. “Over into Mr. Bloodmarch’s yard?”

The girls blanch, take deep breaths, and start up again. 

“And maybe it went, um-”

“Into a window.”

“One of those pretty ones with the different colors.”

It’s Craig’s turn to blanch.  _ Shitshit _ **_shitfuck._ ** He immediately begins to wonder how much a stained glass window is going to cost him. 

“Dad! You  _ can’t _ answer! Mr. Bloodmarch is going to get angry and bite you and kill you!”

It’s the first thing they say that makes Craig pause. “What? Damien’s not a  _ vampire. _ We’ve been over this. You’re going to apologize to him, and we’re going to figure out how to pay him back, and that’s that.” 

Most of this is lost over River’s wailing, and besides, Craig is finally at the door despite the girls’ hard work. He swings it open to find, as he expected, the calm, cool, collected figure of Damien Bloodmarch. Though they're in the cul-de-sac book club together, Craig hasn't had much one-on-one experience with Damien, though he's personally envied his house and his garden and his style, oh man. Craig would rather dress down than up, but Damien always looked _amazing._   


Damien’s eyebrows shoot up at the sounds of chaos that pour out of the Cahn household, and then at the fact that the twins are  _ hiding  _ behind Craig, and River is still crying, and Christ, Damien’s probably thinking he should call CPS. 

Craig knows he’s bright red. “Um. So my girls just told-” River’s cry pierces the air, and everyone winces. “I’m- I’m sorry, I need to get her calmed down, please, come in, we’ll figure out how-” And again, he’s cut off by River. 

Craig feels a little like crying himself right now. Absolutely embarrassed, he turns and picks up River. The twins rush back to the kitchen, but very obviously poke their heads out of it to watch the proceedings. 

Craig holds River to his chest and tries to soothe her with every trick he has. She didn’t get a proper nap at the softball game earlier, so she’s cranky and tired and Craig  _ understands _ but also he just needs her to quiet down a little bit. There’s nothing worse than one of your kids absolutely losing their shit in front of another parent. The judgement is killer. 

He’s still got his back to Damien because he can’t quite bring himself to turn around and see that judgement. River’s head is on his shoulder as he rocks her and bounces her, and all of a sudden her cries stop, though she’s still hiccuping. He glances down at her face and she’s staring at something behind him. He looks over his shoulder, and sees that Damien is holding two strings in his hand that connect to a small piece of paper. As he pulls the strings, the paper spins, and it looks like a bird in a cage. River is fascinated. 

Keeping her in his arms, he turns himself and River so that she can watch Damien’s toy better as she lays against his chest. “It’s a thaumatrope,” Damien says quietly. “An illusion that was popular in the Victorian era.” 

“Just, uh- don’t give it to her. She’s in a bit of a ripping stage.” 

Damien’s lips tip up in a smile. “Ah, yes, I remember Lucien at that age. I had to bar the door to my library. I lost a second edition Mary Shelley, but that is the price for inattention, I suppose.” 

Craig’s cheeks flame up, and he gives a quick glance to the kitchen, where he can just make out the girls’ hair poking around the side of the door. “Speaking of the price of inattention, the girls told me about the window. I’m sorry. I’ll pay for it to be replaced. I mean. I hope I can pay for it to be replaced. It wasn’t, like...antique or something, was it?” 

Damien continues to spin the thauma-whatever, but his eyes meet Craig’s above it. “It’s costly, but not priceless, no.”

“We’ll pay for it. I’m so sorry. And I’ll get the girls to come apologize properly when they’ve calmed down a bit. When everything has calmed down a bit.” 

“Everything does appear to be a little chaotic at the moment. Is there anything I can do to help?” Damien actually looks concerned for him, and he’s searching Craig’s face. 

Craig knows he looks like shit, but he tries a smile anyway. “Just everything hitting at once, like normal. Nothing I can’t take care of. I’ll be fine.” 

Damien chews his lip, a motion that draws Craig’s eyes down to them for some reason he can’t figure out. He's never lingered on Damien's lips before. Then again, he's never been alone - or mostly alone - with Damien before. “I will return at another time, I think that might be best.” 

“No, no. It’s okay, bro- Damien.” Craig stumbles over the epithet that normally comes naturally to him. Damien is always so formal, it feels weird to use with the man. “We’ll get this ironed out tonight. Just, um. Maybe we can talk while I try to salvage dinner?”

“Oh, what happened to supper?”

“Well, I burned it. But I have some other stuff I can throw together. We were supposed to be having a treat, mac n’ cheese, the bunny kind, you know?”

Damien smiles. “I’ve seen it at the store, yes. I prefer a baked mac n’ cheese, with fontina and sage. Have you tried that? Although I suppose that’s not very treat-like, if Lucien is correct. He’s forever trying to get me to buy that awful orange stuff.”  

“Oh, yeah. Smashley- I mean Ashley, my ex? She loves that stuff.” Craig shrugs as he rocks River. “Trying to be a little healthier with my girls while they’re here anyway.”

“I understand completely. Ah-” Damien’s face melts a little, and Craig follows his gaze down to his own chest, where River is sound asleep. 

He’s not sure if he’s relieved that she’s calmed down, or annoyed that he’ll have to wake her up in a bit to eat dinner, or she’s going to wake him up at two in the morning screaming bloody, hungry murder. He hopes for a short nap. “I’m just going to set her down really quickly,” he murmurs at Damien, who nods with understanding. 

Craig pads back to his room and settles River in the crib. She doesn’t even make a sound as she goes down, and he pauses for a second, letting himself breathe as he watches her sleep, her soft curls haloing her head. “When you grow up, let’s get you involved in something that doesn’t involved breaking windows, like ballet or scouts or something, okay? Okay, good. Glad we had this talk.” 

When he walks back to the living room, he finds it empty, and he panics slightly, calling Damien’s name. 

“In here!” Damien calls cheerfully. When Craig rounds the corner into the kitchen, Damien’s cloak is draped over one of the dining chairs, and he’s at the counter, all the ingredients for peanut butter and jelly spread before him. “The girls said this would be an acceptable alternative to the mac n’ cheese that was so mournfully lost, before they scampered back out to the yard.” Damien’s lips twist sardonically at that. 

Craig flushes again, rubbing his hand over his neck, before scooting in beside Damien and trying to take over. “You don’t need to do this for us. We’ve already inconvenienced you enough for today.” 

Damien looks over at him, and Craig is struck that they’re the same height. He likes that he can look right into Damien’s eyes.  _ And where did  _ that _ thought come from, Cahn?? _ “Or, we could do it together, and be done twice as quickly.” 

Mouth a little dry, for some inexplicable reason, Craig nods and starts pulling bread out. They’ve made two sandwiches before Damien breaks the companionable silence. “I’d like to say I empathize, though I only have Lucien, and you have three. But- I understand, I think, a little of what you’re going through. I remember the early days. I can’t imagine doing it alone.” 

“I’m fine,” Craig says automatically, then winces at how defensive it sounds. “I’m sorry. I mean. I’m doing okay. But thank you.” 

Damien pauses in spreading raspberry jam across the bread. “Of course. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

Craig flushes. He chews his lip, then glances at Damien’s elegant profile. “No. Um. I- I’m just used to doing it all on my own, and look where that got me? My girls won’t even apologize for breaking your damn window. I thought I was doing better.” 

The concern clears from Damien’s face, and the small smile is back. Craig likes his face better that way. “Last week, I had to pick up Lucien from school because he tried to  _ Cask of Amontillado _ Ernest.” 

Craig can’t help but laugh, but luckily, Damien laughs along with him. 

“You’re doing a good job, Craig.”

Craig’s breath gets caught in his throat, and he has to swallow the ball of emotion away. He hadn’t realized how much he’s needed to hear those words. 

Damien’s thumb slides over Craig’s hand in a small gesture of comfort. “As for the price of the window, are either of the girls allergic to dander?”

“Not that we’ve come across. Ashley has cats, and Hazel and Briar do fine with them,” Craig answers, a little confused. 

“You may know I work with Mary at the local animal shelter. How would you feel about your girls working off their debt by volunteering there?”

Craig’s immediate thought is for their tight schedule, with softball games and practice and his business-  _ nope. This is more important. _ “We’d love to do that.”

He’s a little blown away by the brightness of Damien’s smile - how has he not noticed this before? “Excellent. I prefer letters for communication, but I suppose we need a faster method if we’re going to coordinate schedules, so I should probably give you my phone number.” 

“Right, of course,” Craig answers, though he’s nervous, all of a sudden. He turns to grab his cell phone off the counter, then pauses and holds up his peanut butter-sticky hands. “In a sec.” He pulls out bread for another sandwich, then realizes they’ve made four already. He looks over at Damien. “Want to stay for dinner? I feel like it’s the least I can offer.” 

Damien studies him for a moment, which makes Craig want to rub his neck again, except for the fact that he still has peanut butter all over his fingers. Finally, Damien’s face clears, and he smiles, taking the bread for a fifth sandwich from him. “I’d like that, Craig.” 

\--------------

Later, with all the girls fed, the twins showered and pajama’d and reading, and River down again after some tiring train play time, Craig leans against the counter and scrubs over his face. 

“I think that’s probably my cue to leave,” Damien says in the quiet of the kitchen, carrying plates to the sink.

“Sorry.” 

“No, don’t be. I get it.” 

Craig grabs Damien’s cloak and hands it off, then begins walking him to his front door. He opens it, and then pauses. 

Damien holds out his hand to give a friendly shake. “I’ll be getting in touch about the shelter. But I don’t want you to worry about the window cost. I won’t hear of it.” 

Craig is still holding Damien’s hand in his, looking over at him, watching the night breeze tousle his black locks. On impulse, he brings up Damien’s hand and brushes his lips over the knuckles. As soon as he does, he glances up, and is enchanted by the bright flush across Damien’s cheeks. “Was that okay?” he asks, suddenly nervous.

“I- I must admit, when I came over, I didn’t think the night would lead to his, but…” Damien leans in and brushes a kiss across Craig’s cheek. “Yes, that was okay.” 

He smiles a little mysteriously before he bows and heads back to his place. Craig melts against the door jamb.  _ Damn, where did that come from? _

He lets himself sigh over the retreating back of Damien for another second before he closes the door and heads back to work on the books.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Craig grows even more enamored of his neighbor, but is also feeling inadequate in the face of Damien's elegance. 
> 
> (if you didn't read the first work in this series, Jared is my dadsona)

The rest of the night, Craig can barely concentrate on the numbers in front of him, too distracted by a pair of kind, dark eyes, artfully shadowed in brown and red. A little sardonic smile, just a simple twist of lips. The careless hand gesture Damien made to dismiss Craig’s apologies for his general mess of a life tonight. His fingers are… elegant. Everything about Damien is elegant, and the polar opposite of … just about everything Craig’s ever known. 

He taps at the keyboard idly as he imagines Damien, not realizing he’s typing in the spreadsheet until he sees the line of “alksn;asdkfnpisknslfkn” appear in one of the cells. Hastily, blushing, he hits undo and forces himself to concentrate again. 

When he’s finally done, he feels restless. Damien - well, Damien  _ flusters _ Craig in a way he’s never felt before. He doesn’t feel like...he doesn’t understand what a guy like Damien would ever see in a guy like him. 

To comfort himself, he falls into one of his old routines - checking on the girls to make sure they’re still breathing. When he pokes his head in the twins’ room, Hazel is starfished over her bed on her stomach, limbs splayed about, drooling into her pillow. Briar, on the other hand… well, there’s a suspicious lump under Briar’s blanket, and a light from there as well. He hasn’t gotten the girls phones yet, so at least it’s not that, she probably just got caught up in a book. Since tomorrow’s Sunday, he’s not too worried about her missing some sleep. 

He wonders if Damien stays up late at night, caught up in a book, his elegant fingers curled around the cover - Craig can’t imagine Damien owning an e-reader - his hair falling down into his face, so Craig has to reach over and sweep it behind his ear. 

_ Whoa. _

Craig shakes his head at himself.  _ The man hangs out with you for one night and you’re already fantasizing about him in bed? And- and this is the most disappointing part, Cahn… not even in a sexy way? Jesus. You’ve got to push this crush out of your head. _

He keeps River’s crib in his room. He shakes his head at himself as he goes over to check on her. If there’s a more telling piece of evidence that he’s not ready to- well- invite anyone to his bedroom anytime soon, it’s that his almost-toddler would be sleeping five feet away from them. Definitely a plan killer. 

Not that Craig has plans. Sure, Damien seemed really nice earlier, and there were the kisses, but that could have just been Damien being a gentleman, not anything having to do with Craig. 

_ And I’m back around to ‘Damien would never be interested in me, _ Craig thinks, pulling off his athletic clothes and slipping in between his sheets in his boxers. Sleep unfortunately doesn’t come quickly, especially once Craig realizes that his bedroom windows angles toward Damien’s house. They can’t peeping Tom each other or anything, but the looming dark of the Victorian-style house still keeps Craig awake and cycling through his anxieties. 

He’s just about to put his phone away when it buzzes, and he’s surprised to see it’s a text notification from Damien. It’s enough of a text that it got split into two messages.

**Damien:** I do hope this missive isn’t arriving too late. I tend to be somewhat nocturnal, especially on the weekends. I could have waited until tomorrow, but this is rather an emergency, and time is off the essence. Not an emergency like an

**Damien:** emergency, but rather a decision needs to be made quickly. Everything is fine here. Regards, Damien

**Craig:** No, it’s okay dude, what’s up?

The ‘dude’ slips past his editing; he doesn’t even notice it until the message is sent and read. Craig goes red, imagining elegant Damien judging his use of the word. 

**Damien:** Oh, thank goodness. Mary was just in contact with me. It seems that one of our regular volunteers has come down with the flu and won’t be able to come into the shelter tomorrow. I know it’s rather short notice, but I thought, if you and 

**Damien:** the girls weren’t busy, we could get started on that, shall we say, karma repayment. 

Sundays are about the one sane day Craig has, but he’d rather get his girls started, too. 

**Craig:** Sounds great. Um. How are the dogs around babies? Should I find a sitter for River?

**Damien:** Oh dear! I had not thought of that, my deepest apologies. Considering some of the cases, yes, it might be best to keep River away.

Craig sighs internally and opens up a new text. 

**Craig:** Bro, would you and/or Amanda be down for an emergency River babysit?

**Jared:** Dude, you got it, if you tender payment in the form of brunch, you and me. I haven’t seen you in like a week.

He thinks of the rapidly decreasing gaps of free time he’d tried to build into his week and shakes his head. _Nothing for it._

**Craig:** Monday after our run, you, me, River, and the diner.

**Jared:** Sounds like a date. Just text me when you’re heading over, I’ll be here all day, big project I’ve put off.

With that squared away, Craig returns to the conversation with Damien. 

**Craig:** Jared and Amanda are going to watch River while we’re at the shelter. 

**Damien:** Oh, wonderful! I’m so sorry I didn’t think of it to begin with. But I wouldn’t want your precious little one to get hurt. Some of the shelter dogs have been abused and little, grabbing hands would disturb them. 

**Craig:** No, it’s okay, I totally get it. What time should we be at the shelter? Would you like to ride with us? 

They hammer out the details, and Craig rolls out of bed to go make Briar go to sleep. It’s going to be an early morning.

\------------------------------------------

Craig has to admit he’s moving sluggishly, but he manages to get himself and the girls ready to go with only three pieces of burnt toast, one hair tie almost impossibly entangled (Dad to the rescue), and everyone dressed for their various activities. He’s packing River’s diaper bag when the doorbell rings. 

“Hazel, Briar, can one of you get that please? It’s Mr. Bloodmarch. Show him how mature and respectful you are!” 

He throws a variety of snacks that he  _ hopes _ River still likes, although lately it’s been anybody’s guess. The girl goes a week shoving banana slices into her mouth like there’s no tomorrow, and then all of a sudden two days ago, nope, nosiree, banana slices are No Good™. 

He hears thundering feet - seriously, how are two 4th graders so loud? - and then the polite tones of Damien’s voice, followed by silence. God, he really hopes his girls are acting politely, too. He finishes packing River’s bag and heads toward the living room, then pauses to listen in.

“We’re sorry about the glass, Mr. Bloodmarch,” Hazel is saying, voice sincere. 

“Yeah, we’re sorry. We’ll be more careful next time,” Briar adds, and Craig’s mouth drops open, a little stunned. 

Is there  _ anyone _ Damien can’t charm? 

He's also damn proud of his girls.

“Thank you, ladies. And the shelter dogs will thank you, too, I’m sure. Please, call me Damien, if you wish.” 

Craig walks out, scooping up River from where she’d been stacking blocks and slinging her bag over his shoulder. “Damien, hi- hello.” 

He’s stunned again by Damien’s appearance. He’s wearing - well,  _ practical _ clothes is how Craig thinks of it. A polo from the animal shelter and a pair of dark jeans that, despite the casualness of jeans, fit Damien as perfectly as his slacks always do. Even casual like this, he’s put together, cool and collected. He’s wearing glasses, and his hair is tied back in a way that makes Craig want to run his fingers through it and loosen it again. Despite the glasses and the casual look, Craig makes out just a little eye makeup that gives Damien’s eyes a smokey feel. 

The whole thing makes Craig stumble over his words. “I- I um, I need to go drop this- I mean, River- off at Jared’s. Um. Girls? Coats and shoes?”

“I’ll walk with you, so we can go over what the girls will be doing?” Damien asks, and Craig nods. 

At this point he’s just grateful he can escape the house to get some of the cool morning air on his cheeks. 

\--------------------------

Later, as Craig and Damien watch Hazel and Briar run around the dog run, playing fetch with several of the dogs, they chat idly. Like last night, it seems to happen naturally, despite - despite Craig feeling like they're polar opposites. Despite Craig feeling like he’s worth about as much as the dirty scuff on Damien’s otherwise immaculate sneakers. 

“How’d you get into I.T.?” he asks, deliberately turning away from the thought. 

Damien sweeps some stray hairs back from his face and shrugs a little. “Computers have always just… made sense to me, you know?” 

Craig, who’d struggled for years in minimum-wage jobs in every industry imaginable, lost, purposeless, before he’d figured out how to turn a hobby into a business, just makes a little noise of assent back. 

Damien laughs a little. “I must admit, it irked me. I- well, obviously, you must know how much I appreciate goth culture and the Victorian aesthetic.” Craig nods. “Imagine finding out my calling is in tech. It’s been one of my many struggles with my identity.”

He says it easily, and nothing on his face betrays that he’s anything less than completely comfortable with who he is in this moment. Craig studies his profile, notes the slight raise of Damien’s chin, a call to challenge - or maybe more like he’s preparing to be challenged. 

Craig turns back out to watch the girls throw a frisbee for a particularly large mutt. He wonders who will tire out first, his twins or the dog. His money’s on the dog. “Still, if it’s you, it’s you,” he says. “Why fight it?”

He sees Damien’s smile out of the corner of his eye.

\-------------------------------

The problem that has him tossing and turning again Sunday night is that, despite the hand kiss-cheek kiss, Damien’s been nothing but a gentleman, nothing but polite. Craig, meanwhile, seems to be picturing the man every time he closes his eyes, like he’s been burned into Craig’s brain. What- what could Damien  _ possibly _ want with a guy like him? 

He’s still cycling through those thoughts on Monday morning, when he’s jogging in front of Jared’s place, waiting for his friend to get his ass in gear. River’s strapped to his front, and he’s got too much restless energy to pace like he sometimes does waiting for Jared. He’s thirty seconds away from just heading out by himself when Jared opens the door and jogs out to meet him. 

“Sorry. Missed my alarm,” Jared says, easily falling into place beside him. 

Craig just shakes his head, hating the feeling of butterflies in his stomach and wanting to run himself to oblivion. “No problem, bro.” 

They set off down the cul-de-sac and head toward the park. Craig worries his lip as he sets the pace, a fast one. He needs to just - just let go, and Jared’s not complaining beside him, so once they get out of the streets, Craig really opens up, blazing down the path. 

It only takes Craig a few minutes - okay, maybe twenty - to realize Jared is absolutely dying beside him, panting hard but holding pace. And also holding a stitch in his side. Craig pulls up to a walk, then stops when Jared does so he can regain his breath. 

“Dude. What the hell was that?” Jared manages between pants, red and sweaty. 

Craig can still feel the nervous energy buzzing through his body. “I- Sorry, bro. I didn’t mean to push you so hard.” 

He unclips a bottle from his belt and tosses it to Jared, who misses the throw, then just glares at the water bottle and drops himself right down to the path. Soon he’s splayed out, pouring water over his face, Craig still standing above him, feeling a lot like shit now. 

A passerby asks after Jared’s health, but Jared just waves them along, then smiles up at Craig. “Dude, I have  _ earned _ my waffles this morning.” 

Relieved Jared isn’t pissed at him, Craig holds out a hand to pull the smaller man up. “Yeah you have, and I’ll buy. C’mon, the longer you stay down, the harder it’ll be to get back up.” 

He pulls Jared up easily, then slings an arm around his waist. Jared leans into him; physical affection has always been easy between them. “So, anyway, what the fuck was that about?”

As they walk to the diner, Craig explains what happened Saturday night and Sunday morning with Damien. “I, um, I can’t really believe I made a move. And, uh, that he kind of made one back. But then on Sunday, all nice and professional, no hinky business. So maybe he was just being nice. I mean, he was nice the whole night, Jesus, we were such a shit show that night. There’s no way he’d want anything to do with the chaos that is the Cahn household.” He pushes past his own casual insult of himself and tries to cover it quickly. “Plus there’s a billion reasons why I shouldn’t be distracted with dating right now,” he finishes. 

Jared pulls the door open for Craig and River, and Craig gets distracted taking care of strapping River into a high chair for a few minutes. When his attention is back on Jared, Jared is looking at him thoughtfully. “How long has it been since you and Smashley broke up?”

Not hard to remember - River had barely been a month old when he and Ashley had separated. “About a year. I don’t really have time for a relationship,” he adds when his phone chimes and he has to send some rapid texts about his business. 

“Yeah, I mean. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate.” Jared is looking pointedly down at Craig’s phone. A little abashed, Craig sets his phone aside after they order. “Listen, bro. I kind of feel like the whole ‘busy’ thing is an excuse? It’s been awhile for you, right? I mean, dating wise? I know it took me a little to get back in the game.” 

Craig raises an eyebrow. This is as close as Jared’s come to admitting the weird ‘hang out with Brian so that Amanda gets babysitting money’ thing is actually dating. 

“I mean, not that I’m dating.” 

And  _ there _ it is. 

“Right,” Craig replies.

There’s silence between them, Craig thinking of those eyes again, Jared thinking of how aesthetically pleasing red hair is.

“Damien’s really sweet, though,” Craig says inexplicably, and Jared beams at him. 

“Oh?” Jared waggles his brows. 

“Eat shit.” Craig strongly considers throwing the little plastic drink menu at his friend’s head. 

“Damien’s a great guy,” Jared says agreeably. “He’d understand if you told him you didn’t have time right now.” 

“I mean time for what? He probably didn’t even mean anything by it. He’s probably just being friendly. I bet all Victorians ended get togethers with a kiss on the cheek.” 

Jared’s brow arches over his glasses. “Mhmm.” 

They go quiet again as their food is delivered. 

“I know you’re busy. You’re working damn hard with the business and the girls. But you deserve some Craig time, you know?”

“I get plenty of Craig time,” he replies, shifting in his seat uncomfortably, thinking about all the Craig time he’s funneled into other, more important things recently.

“Yeah, okay.  _ Just _ Craig time? Craig and other adults time?”

“I’ve got the book club.” 

Jared shoots him a _ look. _ “What about Craig and ‘adult that maybe wants to have fun, sexy times with Craig’ time?”

“I didn’t say I wanted to have fun, sexy times with Damien!” Craig hisses across the table, then blushes when a waiter walking by glances at them sharply.

“Dude, you made out with his hand.” Jared snickers, accepting it goodheartedly when Craig wads up his napkin and throws it in Jared’s face. “But seriously, are you telling me you don’t want to make out with his face?”

“Check, please,” Craig says jokingly, hiding his flaming face. “Maybe,” he manages, voice strained, when Jared just keeps looking at him. 

“Damien’s fucking adorable and sweet as hell. You have time for that.” 

“I-”

“Craig. You  _ want _ this.”

Craig makes a desperate noise in his throat. “I do!”

“So why are you arguing against me?”

“Because what if he was just being nice and he actually doesn’t like me? What’s to like? I’m a wreck! My life is a wreck!” 

“Listen, bro, you’re an awesome guy. Drop the ‘he was just being nice’ thing. That’s just your jerkbrain lying. You’re a fucking catch, okay? I mean, I’d date you.” 

Craig laughs, kicking Jared’s shin lightly under the table. “Hey, knowing your taste in guys, I appreciate it,” he replies jovially, thinking of Brian, but Jared’s eyes go soft and sad and Craig mentally kicks himself for bringing up his friend’s dead husband. “Sorry.” 

Jared shakes it off, swiping a last bite of waffle through syrup and butter. “I think you should text him.” 

Craig nudges his knee against Jared’s as a second apology. “He doesn’t like texting.” 

“So what are you supposed to do, then? Write him a letter? Carrier pigeon? Singing telegram?” 

“I mean, I could go over to his house, I guess.”

Jared beams at him. “Absolutely go over to his house. Not what I would do, obviously, so it must be a good idea.” Jared’s probably the biggest introvert in the cul-de-sac.

“Okay. Okay, yeah. I can do that.” Craig’s final swallow of egg-white omelet almost gets caught in his throat, but he nods with confidence. He turns to help River clean up from the pancakes she’d gotten. There’s more syrup on her clothes than he thinks actually went inside of her, and he adds showering with River to his mental to-do list. He could do it tonight, before the- “Hey, you want to come over and watch the game tonight?”

Jared goes red and coughs. “Oh no, um. Brian and I are going to the bar to watch it. So, um, Amanda can babysit and Daisy can have some Amanda time.” 

“Uh huh.” He just raises an eyebrow, but Jared’s already scooting out of the booth and heading to the counter to pay. Craig shakes his head and sighs as he straps River in. “Donny, don’t take that guy’s money,” he calls.

He hip bumps Jared out of the way and holds out his own card instead. “Bro, I told you I was paying.” 

Jared rolls his eyes and steps - sort of hard, actually - on Craig’s foot in retaliation. 

\-------------------------

It’s two more days of Damien-fueled agony while he tries to think of how he wants to ask him out, when he stumbles over his answer biking home from work one day, River strapped into a seat behind him. He pulls his bike up to the shop that just now caught his eye, scoops River into his arms, locks up, and heads in. Twenty minutes later, he’s leaving with a nicely wrapped gift - thank God, because if _he’d_ tried to wrap it, it would definitely not look this good. 

It takes a bit of negotiating with Jared again to be able to head over to Damien’s all alone, a few nights later, when the girls are sleeping. Although once Jared finds out what it’s for, he practically pushes Craig out of the house. 

Craig has exactly one suit, for business things, like meetings with investors, and the bank, and so forth. It makes him feel awkward and unsure, but Jared’s eyes bulge a bit when he sees Craig in it, holding the small wrapped box, so he takes that as a good sign. 

The walk to Damien’s house is nervewrackingly short, and soon he’s using the wrought-iron knocker firmly. 

Damien’s face is a mask of surprise when he pulls the door open, but he’s impeccably dressed, like always. “Craig! Whatever’s the- uh-” He pauses mid-sentence as his eyes sweep down Craig’s body. 

Craig blushes. “I, um, I hope this is an okay time? You mentioned you’re a bit nocturnal, so I was hoping-”

“No, no, it’s wonderful to see you. Please, come in. I assume this is a social call, and everything is all right with the girls?”

Craig follows Damien into his entryway. “Oh, yeah, they’re fine. Jared’s babysitting again.” 

“I thought Amanda was the one that babysat,” Damien says as he leads them into his living room. 

Craig’s been inside Damien’s home a handful of times for book club, and it always floors him. He sits carefully on the antique couch, surprised when Damien sits down on the same loveseat with him, their knees almost touching. 

“Oh! Where are my manners? Would you like some tea?” Damien starts to stand again, but Craig reaches out to touch his leg gently. 

“No, it’s okay. I’m good. Really.” When Damien’s seated again, Craig pulls the box from his pocket. “Um. I’m. Uh. Probably going to mess this up. Mess it all up.” 

He thrusts the box into Damien’s hands, and Damien looks at him, confused. 

“Um. I did some research on-” Craig reaches up to rub his neck, but it’s covered by his collared shirt. He clenches his hands together instead. “On um, Victorian, like, dating?”

Damien’s eyes go wide, and he looks down at the gift in his hands. 

“And they talk about gifts? Of, um, courtship?” 

_ “Craig.” _

Craig, whose gaze has drifted somewhere over Damien’s shoulder from anxiety, snaps back to Damien’s face. To his relief, Damien is smiling. “Yeah?”

Damien shakes his head slightly, but he continues smiling. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. You were- were you going to ask me something? Because I find myself quite agreeable.” 

Craig swallows, screws up all his courage, and says, “Would you like to go on a date with me?” 

“It would bring me great joy.” Damien leans over, brushing his lips against Craig’s cheek again. 

“It would? I mean- does that mean yes?” 

Damien snorts, and looks at him fondly. “Yes.” His fingers curl a little into Craig’s collar, and he draws closer yet. His lips are a hair’s breadth from Craig’s. “May I have the honor?”

Craig doesn’t need to ask for clarification, but he can’t anyway, his mouth has gone utterly dry. He nods, instead, and then Damien’s lips are pressing against his, lightly, no hint that Damien is seeking anything deeper, and yet - Craig’s heart feels like it’s going to pump right out of his chest. 

When they break apart, Craig feels dazed. Belatedly, he looks down at Damien’s other hand, which is still holding the present. “Oh, um, I think you were supposed to open that first.” 

Damien looks down in surprise, then back up to smile at Craig again. He runs a thumb over Craig’s cheek. “I don’t plan on changing my mind.” 

“That’s a relief,” Craig jokes. 

Damien’s long, slender fingers make quick work of the wrapping. He hums at the sight of the shop’s logo on the box. “How did you know I frequent The Nib and Blot?”

Pleasure courses through Craig’s veins. “I didn’t. Just a lucky guess.” 

Damien’s little inward breath as he looks at the hand-turned pen and metal nib lying inside the box is something Craig immediately decides he needs to hear again and again. “Craig, it’s gorgeous.” He pulls it out, testing the weight of it, then meets Craig’s eyes. “It’s perfect. I can’t wait to try it out. I cannot thank you enough.” 

“I had to do something to sweeten the pot,” Craig says, then curses himself in his head, rubbing a hand over his face. He peeks out from between his fingers. Yeah, Damien looks confused. 

“What do you mean?”

_ In it now. _ “Um. Just that, I can think of a million reasons why you shouldn’t give me the time of day.”

“Like?”

“My life is chaos and it doesn’t look like it’s going to get better any time soon. I love my girls but we’re not exactly the smoothest family in the world. I barely have time for my friends, for-”  _ For myself. _ “For this. I’m probably going to be terrible at it. And you’re- you’re  _ you. _ Damien Bloodmarch. The least casual I’ve seen you was that one time I saw you at the store when you were sick. You’re  _ elegant, _ and I’m not.” 

Damien’s thumb is still rubbing over Craig’s cheek, and it sweeps up, over the scar in his eyebrow, before Damien leans in for another kiss. “You’re cleaned up pretty well right now,” Damien murmurs. “But I happen to, um. Find your other look, um, very attractive as well.” 

“What look?”

“Do you know how tiny your running shorts are?” A beautiful blush creeps over Damien’s cheeks even as he smiles and winks. “Even just the Dad-on-the-run look is very appealing on you. At least, to me.” 

Craig’s a little lost in Damien’s eyes. 

“Besides,” Damien says softly, “If it’s you, it’s you, someone told me recently. And I happen to find the you that is you - well. I’m very interested, let me put it that way. Very interested in a fine man, a fine father.” 

He sets the pen box on the coffee table and folds his hands in Craig’s, then pulls his knuckles up for a kiss. “To borrow some sports terminology, let’s, uh, spike that ball.” 

Craig laughs for the first time that evening, his nerves finally clearing away. “‘Take a shot’ might be more appropriate.” 

“As long as-” Damien’s cut off by his own giggles. “As long as- as long as we  _ score.” _

Craig snorts, then falls into laughter with Damien, pulling him into his arms and holding tight as they shake with mirth. When they stop, they both seem to realize at once that Damien is halfway on Craig’s lap. 

Damien blushes. “If this was Victorian times, everyone would be  scandalized by this.” He shifts away just a little.   


Craig can’t really believe that this is happening, it feels like his head is spinning. He leans up to kiss Damien’s cheek. “I, um. Hope you don’t mind if we take things slowly?”

Damien kisses his forehead tenderly. “I would prefer that as well.” He squeezes their hands together, then pulls himself and Craig to standing positions. “Which means I should probably ask you to go.”

It does something to him, the knowledge that he turns Damien on, but like he said, he’d like to sit on that for a bit, savor it. Figure things out without sex entering into the mix. 

At the door, Damien leans in for another cheek kiss, which Craig echoes. When Craig’s halfway back to his house, he turns around, spying the dark figure of Damien silhouetted against the doorway. Feeling giddy, he blows the figure a kiss, then turns back around and whistles the last twenty feet home. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story so far - from Damien's perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but I wanted to see Damien's side of things.

**Lucien:** Headed to Derek’s

**Lucien:** I’ll grab dinner there

At the chiming of his phone, Damien moves the magnifying glasses up to the top of his head and turns away from the cat he’s been working on for awhile now. His neighbor - the one his garden butts up against to the back, one cul-de-sac over, Mrs. Winningham, lost her beloved Pansy to cancer, and doesn’t want to have to live without her. He’s almost done with Pansy, and he hopes the stuffed cat will bring Mrs. Winningham as much joy in her ‘afterlife’ as she did in this one. He takes tea once a week with Edith, and the poor dear has been  _ distraught. _

Damien sends off a quick “Thank you for telling me, have fun” text and turns back to his work. His relationship with Lucien has always been tricky, but lately he feels like he’s found himself on solid ground again, by respecting Lucien’s boundaries. Damien knows Lucien probably found a private place to send off the texts, like a quick visit to the bathroom, or disguised as doing something else on his phone, so he could save face. Doesn’t matter how he does it, Lucien almost always manages to check in, and do it without losing any points in front of friends. 

Damien gets it. He was a teen once, trying desperately not to let anyone know exactly how hard he was trying. 

When his stomach grumbles, he cleans up the taxidermy materials for the night and heads to the kitchen to toss something together. For one. Again. He sighs. He's  _not_ lonely, he tells himself, a convenient lie. He's been lying to himself for awhile now, probably. At least since Lucien got his driver's license and started eating dinner away from home more often. He's been lying and filling the emptiness with taxidermy and tea with Edith and the cul-de-sac book club. Oh, and he's been volunteering more of his time at the shelter. He's been thinking about getting a dog, actually. A small companion. Maybe. He shrugs internally.  


He’s chopping carrots up for a salad when he hears a loud crash in the living room and almost cuts himself from the shock. Dropping the knife, he heads to investigate, and finds a large yellow softball - easily recognizable enough from his own childhood - on the carpet, and the gardenia stained glass - one of his favorites - broken irreparably around it. 

From the window, he looks across the side yard to- oh. _Hmm._ To see Craig’s daughters running around a bit like chickens with their heads cut off, actually. 

Sighing, he picks up the softball and sweeps on his cloak - it’s getting a little chilly at night these days. He doesn’t  _ want _ to get them in trouble, necessarily. But he’d like to tell them to be careful, at the very least, so he heads over to the Cahn household. 

When his second buzz on the doorbell is finally answered, Damien’s greeted with an extremely flustered looking Craig, a bit of cooking smoke that makes him wrinkle his nose a little, and the littlest one - River, he remembers quickly - screaming. 

Craig’s cheeks are bright red with embarrassment as he turns to pick River up and try to soothe her, and Damien is struck by how Craig won’t meet his eyes. He remembers moments like that as a young parent himself. He’s surprised to see it in Craig, who always struck him at book club as extremely confident, a jock, the kind that would have - did - slam Damien into a locker when he was in high school. Back when he'd - well. Been a different person.  


Damien hasn’t exactly been warm to the man before, and he reflects now how long those high school aggressions have stayed with him. While part of his brain isn't ready to let them go, as a bit of protection, he really has no reason to believe Craig is anything but a nice man. And right now, he’s in need of a bit of rescuing. 

And damme, if rescuing isn’t Damien’s Achilles heel. Puppies. Cats. Elderly neighbors. Attractive men who perhaps do workout routines in their backyard in full view of Damien’s bedroom window. Damien has eyes, after all, even if he doesn’t really know the shape of Craig’s character. 

_ Yet. _

The word floats through his mind as River’s screams seem to get louder, and he’s wondering if he should leave when he finds the thaumatrope in his pocket and pulls it out, figuring it’s worth a shot. 

A few minutes later, River is hiccuping, her face buried into Craig’s chest as he rocks her and looks apologetic over her head. 

Damien’s seen River strapped to Craig’s chest more times than he can count, but when Craig leans down to place a kiss in her soft curls, as her eyes drift close, Damien can’t help but - but melt a little at the sight. 

\-------------------------

Damien floats home that night, still feeling the press of Craig’s lips on his hand. He hears My Chemical Romance pouring out of Lucien’s room, gives him the knock that means “I’m just acknowledging your presence, you don’t actually have to answer the door”, and heads to his library.

He intends to read, but ends up thinking about his evening in the Cahn household more than he progresses in his book. 

He knows now, after spending several hours with Craig, that Craig is no one’s childhood bully. Craig is sweet, and a good dad, and  _ overworked, _ Lord. And maybe interested, but shy about it. Which just happens to ring all of Damien’s bells. 

He snaps out of a daydream about Craig kissing his hand that keeps playing on loop when there's a series of loud knocks on his front door. For a split second, he hopes it's Craig.  


“Dames! Open up! I know you’re still awake.” 

Mary. 

Damien smiles and heads to the door. Maybe not Craig, but Mary is always lovely. “My lady!”

She’s leaning against his door jamb, her eyes a little blurry. Honestly, not the first time he’s seen her in this state, nor will it be the last, but he doesn’t mind. 

“Dames, Master of the Night, you look this freaking good, how come you don’t come out with me and Robs? You’re wasting all this-” She sweeps a hand to encompass his whole body, “- on a pile of dusty books.” 

He steers her into the living room, then moves to the kitchen to put the kettle on for tea. Less authentic, sure, but a modern convenience he can’t do without. 

“S’cold in here,” Mary complains loudly. “Why’d you take out the window?”

Damien pops his head back in. He cleaned up the glass earlier, but had been daydreaming for too long and forgot to put plastic over the window. “Just a little redecorating. What brings you my way?” He pulls his cloak from the entryway and slides it over her shoulders. 

“Such a gentleman.” She leans her head back against the loveseat and lets her eyes slip closed. “I was supposed to tell you something- oh, right. A favor. Melanie is sick, and we’re already short-staffed ‘cause-”

“Sarai and Kelly on honeymoon, right. So we need a morning walker?”

“Can you help a girl out?” She opens her eyes again, meeting his, and he reaches down to bring her knuckles up for a kiss. 

“Absolutely. Be right back.”

He uses the steeping time to text Craig, smiling when he feels his phone buzz in his pocket as he brings their tea out to the living room. 

“That’s a nice smile, who you thinking about?” Mary groans as she brings herself to a seated position to take the teacup and sip. 

Damien feels his cheeks flush, but he knows he can trust her. “Oh, um. Craig.” 

Mary’s eyebrows raise. “Hottie with a body?”

Damien chokes on his tea. “Um-”

“I’m just joking,” she snickers. 

“Well, as it were-” he starts, and tells her the story of his evening, interspersed with texting Craig back to set up their time at the shelter tomorrow. 

She’s looking speculative by the end. “I haven’t heard you this enthusiastic about a guy in ages - no, scratch that, maybe ever.”

Damien takes a sip of tea to cover his deep breath. He hasn’t  _ felt _ like this in an age, it’s true. 

“I mean, he’s hot, but you don’t mind all the spawn?”

“Mary,  _ you _ have more spa-  _ children _ than he does.” 

“Well only by one. And he’s got twins too, and twins are creepy, take it from me.” 

If Damien’s honest, it took him a while - a few years, probably - to understand Mary’s sense of humor, her absolute delight at getting under everyone’s skin. So, just so she can have her fun, he responds with a gasp and a “Mary, think of your children!”

And she’s off, practically doing a comedy routine, making Damien giggle, making herself cry tears of laughter, until they’re both a mess on the couch. 

Somehow, with Mary sob-laughing into his shoulder, between this and dinner at the Cahn’s, Damien’s not feeling a whisper of loneliness anymore. 

\---------------------------------

When Craig shows up at his doorstep, almost a week later, dressed in a suit that is  _ gorgeously _ cut for him, Damien wonders momentarily at the little flip his heart makes when he sees the man.  


It’s obvious Craig’s nervous, and Lord, he’s so  _ cute _ when he’s nervous, is all Damien can think as they sit down on the loveseat together. 

Damien’s been trying to figure out exactly how to approach Craig for the last few days, if he should make a move, what might happen if Craig wasn't interested in him, or had a problem with dating a trans person. He knows Craig knows - it's not as if he isn't out, as if he doesn't own and proudly wear a cloak with the pastels of the trans flag on it for Pride (it's the lightest colors he allows himself to wear outside of work, and only for the parade). He can't really fathom why Craig's all dressed up, except that he looks good this way, looks good every way Damien's seen him. Now that he's here on Damien's couch, it's as if he's been conjured up by fate.  


He thrusts a gift into Damien’s hands, and Damien’s fingers play over the smoothness of the wrapping paper.

“-courting gift-”

Damien’s head snaps up. _“Craig.”_

This is not what he was expecting, not at all.  


Maybe it’s less like fate, and more like an incredibly sweet and cute man is, quite possibly,  _ interested _ in him. _Him_ _,_ genuinely. A little ball of anxiety Damien hadn't realized is tying up his stomach loosens.  


He can’t stop his lips from stretching into a grin. Now his stomach is filled with giddiness. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. You were- were you going to ask me something? Because I find myself quite agreeable.”

Craig meets his eyes. “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

Damien doesn’t have to think before answering: “It would bring me great joy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoping to eventually work my way up to some E rated stuff for these guys! Eventually! Apparently they like to move slowly, but hey, that's okay, that's their prerogative. It's not like I, the author, have any control over these characters or anything.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damien has invited Craig on their first date, but unfortunately Craig is super sick with a cold. Damn grimy kids!
> 
>  
> 
> Bumped up to Mature for frank discussion of sex but no actual sex. Discussion of body parts, etc. 
> 
> CW: trans character discussion of body, sex, and dysphoria.

Smashley’s on time, something Craig always admires about her. She may be frustratingly aloof about a lot her life, but she’s always on time for the girls. Thank god they’ve come out of this whole thing - falling out of love, hoping another kid would fix it, realizing quickly that it would never be fixed soon after River was born - amicably. Craig’s own parents’ divorce had been a lot messier, and he’d vowed long ago not to subject any children he ever had to that kind of thing.

He swings open the door for her and the twins barrel out with their backpacks. He hands River’s bag to Smashley, then sets River down on the ground. “Want to show Mama your new trick?”

Slowly, a wobbly step at a time, River makes her way over to Smashley’s legs to tug on her skirt. Smashley beams. “Oh my goodness! River, you’re just growing up too fast!” She reaches down to scoop River up on her hip, then meets Craig’s eyes over their daughter. “Whoa, dude. You look like crap.”

Craig sniffles. “Thanks so much,” he replies sarcastically, the effect ruined by his stuffed-nose nasally voice, and Smashley sticks out her tongue.

“Looks like a good weekend to just get some rest, so you’re welcome for taking the girls.”

He gives her a little salute. “I’ll try. I’ll see you Sunday at five?”

Smashley nods, settling River more firmly on her hip and heading back to her car. Craig leans against the doorjamb and waves, watching them until the car turns out of the cul-de-sac.

With a tired grunt, he turns back around to the nest he’s made on the couch of blankets and tissues and over the counter cold medicine. It doesn’t matter how much he works out, how healthy he eats, he still gets taken out by a cold at least twice a year. It’s the kids, honestly. _Little germ factories,_ he thinks, not unfondly. He wouldn’t trade his girls or their rough and tumble ways for anything.

He’s really fucking glad it’s Smashley’s weekend though, because he wants to spend most of it sleeping this virus off. Tonight, though, he’s going on a date with Damien. Their first official date, actually. Craig pulls the hand-written parchment letter closer to him so he can scan the words again, but then he just gets lost in the elegant loops of Damien’s handwriting.  

_My dearest Craig,_

_I must boldly admit to you that I have deeply enjoyed the recent hours we have spent together. It would give me the greatest pleasure if you would be willing to accompany me to dinner and a stroll two nights hence to continue this cordial relationship._

_Regards, Damien Bloodmarch_

Every time he rereads the letter, he feels warm inside.

Or maybe that’s the fever. _Ugh._

He could text Damien and cancel, except he doesn’t _want_ to, he really wants to see the man, even if he feels miserable. After all, he’s past the infection stage. Damien is the Gothiest brightest light in his life. He deserves some sunshine tonight.

He’s just going to take a quick nap right now so he can be ready for dinner and a stroll. He closes his eyes, picturing Damien’s smile.

\-----------------------

It’s the insistent buzz of the doorbell that wakes him up. His throat feels stuffed and raw from the mucus drain, and his eyes are blurry. He tries to call out “Coming!” but it’s a hoarse sound that escapes instead.

As he stands, he grabs his phone to check the time, to see how much time he has to prepare before the date. He’s hoping he has enough time for a shower that can hopefully beat him back into human shape again.

He nearly drops the phone when he sees the time: 7:34. And then he sees the string of increasingly worried and/or annoyed texts Damien has sent him.

He was supposed to pick Damien up at his house at 6:30.

 _Shitshitshitshit-_ He rushes to the door now, determined to turn away whoever it is quickly so he can go apologize to-

“Damien!” Except it comes out as a croak, and then Craig is coughing, hand against the doorjamb to steady himself as Damien looks on with a cool - pissed - look on his face. “So-so-sor-sorry,” Craig finally manages. “I-” He breaks off in another round of coughing.

The pissed look on Damien’s face eases a little, although not fully, into one of concern. “Craig, you look ill, you should get back inside, you’ll catch your death of chill out here.”

Damien guides Craig gently back out of the doorway. Craig acquiesces easily. “Damien, you have to believe me, I’m so sorry.” He feels a little like crying, except he knows it would only make the head cold worse.

Damien makes a little sound in his throat, probably at the sight of the sloppy sick nest Craig has made himself. He pushes Craig down gently and pulls the blanket back up around him. Now Craig’s looking up at the looming figure of Damien, feeling sad and sick.

“I’m so sorry,” he tries again.

Damien sighs and sits down on the edge of the couch, his hand resting on Craig’s blanketed hip. “You don’t have to apologize for being sick, dearest,” he says, rubbing over Craig’s hip in a soothing manner.

Craig wants to close his eyes again but looking at Damien is pretty great, too. His eyes are done up perfectly, and he looks mysterious and sexy and- Craig frowns. Damien still looks a little annoyed with him.

“I had hoped that- that you would have felt comfortable telling me you were sick instead of standing me up,” Damien says, eyes averted at first, then meeting Craig’s defiantly.

“What?” The sudden intake of breath makes Craig cough explosively, and he can feel it through his whole body for a second, wracking. “No- no! I- I laid down to take a little nap and somehow fell asleep for two hours and I’m so goddamned sorry, Damien because I really wanted to go tonight and you look gorgeous.”

Damien’s eyebrow raise, and he leans in to get a better look at Craig’s face, maybe to figure out if he could trust him, when his hand lands on something that makes a crinkling noise. He pauses, digging the object out of Craig’s pile of blankets and eyes widening when he realizes it’s his letter.

“I, uh. Fell asleep with it,” Craig admits sheepishly, feeling his cheeks heat.

Suddenly everything in Damien’s countenance goes soft as he looks down at Craig. “I wrote it with the pen you gifted me,” he says quietly, sweeping some of Craig’s bangs out of his eyes, then pressing those blessedly cool fingers against Craig’s forehead. “You’re burning up!”

Craig leans into Damien’s fingers a bit. “Cahns are prone to low-grade fevers. Although once I had to take Hazel into the ER because she was at 102. I was so scared.”

“Heavens, of course you were, dearest,” Damien murmurs, watching quietly as Craig coughs again. “Here, you should be elevated a bit-”

But instead of stuffing a pillow under Craig’s back and calling it good, Damien rearranges them until Craig’s head is in his lap, and he’s stroking through Craig’s hair.

“Like when you call me that,” Craig mumbles. “Dearest.”

Damien inexplicably blushes. “I- oh. Uh. Good. I like calling you that,” he says, as if he’s just now realized that he said it aloud in the first place.

Craig likes looking into Damien’s eyes. “Will you give me a second chance?” he whispers.

Damien gifts him with the brightest of smiles. “You’re still on your first chance.” There’s an obvious hesitation. “Dearest.” He leans over to kiss Craig’s hot forehead. “Now, I believe, I need to perform my fatherly duty and ask if you’ve been keeping hydrated.”

Craig makes a grunt, letting his eyes close, and Damien sighs. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those men that doesn’t take care of himself when he’s sick.”

“No, I just- I was going to get something, and then I was tired,” he finishes, knowing it sounds like an excuse.

Damien tsks at him and moves to get up, but Craig stops him. “Wait- can we- can we just do this for a little bit? I’m not letting our first date be you being forced to take care of me.”

“I don’t mind,” Damien murmurs, his fingers still soft in Craig’s hair. He doesn’t make another move to get up, though.

“You really do look amazing. I would have been proud to take your arm tonight.” Craig shuffles the blankets until he can reach the hand that’s not stroking through his hair and squeezes it.

“Thank you. That is very sweet of you.”

“It’s true.” Craig gets lost in Damien’s eyes for a second. “Damn, I really wish I wasn’t sick.”

“Well,” Damien says with a small smile. “We could have our first date here.”

“Here?”

“Mmm, yes. What were you going to wear for me, so I can picture it?”

“Some slacks and a button-up.”

Damien smile grows wider. “Mmhmm, yes, very descriptive,” he teases.

Craig smiles back, turning his head to press a kiss to Damien’s belly. “Okay. So, um. Dark grey slacks, and a light gray button-up, I guess.”

“Short-sleeved or long-sleeved?”

“Long, because we were going to stroll and it was going to be a little chilly. And maybe then you’d offer me some space under your cloak on the walk home.”

Damien laughs, a lovely, happy sound. “I see, I see. I’ll have to watch out for your designing mind.”

“What comes next?” Craig asks, gazing up at Damien fondly.

“Well, we would have walked to dinner. I had planned to ask if we could walk hand-in-hand.”

“I would have said yes.” Craig squeezes Damien’s hand.

Damien squeezes back. “We had a reservation at Bourgeois. Have you been there before?”

Craig shakes his head. “I wanted to, but not exactly the type of place you take three kids.”

“Yes, I understand completely. Well, I know the owner, and they were able to give the table away, so we can show our faces there again. And I do want to take you, when we can arrange it.”

“I’d like that, too. So we’re at Bourgeois…” He lets his eyes fall closed.

“And I make a little quip about how I always tell myself I’m going to order something different but every time I get the mushroom-asparagus risotto. And then I hope the quip doesn’t make me sound like I eat out too much, and I wait nervously for your judgement.”

Craig’s eyes pop back open. “You’re adorable, you know that, right?”

Damien blushes. “Is that what you would have said?”

Craig grins. “No, I probably would have been lost in how good I bet you look in candlelight. And then I would have said, ‘mushroom-asparagus risotto?’ just to hear you speak again.”

“Craig,” Damien murmurs, looking undone.

“Mushroom-asparagus risotto?” Craig prompts.

Damien watches him for a second, seeming to get his emotions back under control, then smiles a little and replies, “With truffle oil.”

“‘That sounds really good,’ I’d say, and order one for myself, too.”

“And I’d be secretly disappointed, because I wanted to taste whatever you got,” Damien says with a laugh.

“Aha, you’re one of _those._ Got it. Are you a fry-stealer too?”

“Maybe.”

They both laugh, except Craig’s laugh turns into a coughing fit. “That’s it, I’m getting you some water,” Damien says, shifting so that Craig’s gently laying against the pillows again.

He considers whining, or pushing up to follow, since Damien is a guest in his home, but Damien’s already in the kitchen by the time Craig manages to make a decision, and is returning when Craig has pushed himself up to a sitting position, trying to get his bearings to follow.

“You poor thing,” Damien says quietly. “Come here, then.” He sits back down, adjusting everything so now Craig is laying partially in his lap. “Drink for me.”

Craig takes the water gratefully and swallows a small sip around the soreness in his throat while Damien rubs his back soothingly. When he’s downed all he can, he lays back against Damien tiredly, his head tucked under Damien’s chin now. He can hear Damien’s heartbeat.

“There you go, love. Good job,” Damien murmurs, taking the glass from him.

“So where were we?”

“Waiting for dinner, I think,” Damien answers.

“Ah. So it’s time to make my proposal then.”

Damien makes a surprised squeaking sound that Craig immediately decides he wants to get him to replicate as soon as possible. He cough-laughs. “That being, that since it’s our first date, we should take turns asking each other stuff we want to know. But also I want to know if there’s anything off limits. To ask about.”

Damien’s heartbeat slows a little from the rapid jump it had taken. “Nothing off limits. I...I think your proposal is...very agreeable. What about for you? Anything off limits?”

Craig shakes his head.

“Do you ask the first question?”

“You go ahead.”

Damien’s hand sweeps up the side of his face, then over his scar. “How did you get this?”

Craig laughs humorlessly. “Keg-stand gone awry. Really fucking awry. Basically I got dropped, into a broken glass.”

“Oh, Lord!”

“Blood everywhere, had to find someone sober to take me to the hospital for stitches. It was a really fun time,” Craig says derisively.

“When you and Jared reminisce, you don’t seem so negative about it.”

Craig shrugs. “We both moved on and grew up. I think we both have the same regrets. It’s okay to look back on, now, knowing we’re not those people anymore. But it’s also, just. Ugh.”

Damien hums, and Craig can feel the buzzing of it in his chest. “I believe it’s your turn.”

“How long have you lived here in the cul-de-sac?”

“Hmm, well, we moved here a few years before Lucien was born. I was exceedingly lucky in that my parents gave us a bit of a nest egg from the Bloodmarch fortune, and Joseph and I were able to purchase the house with that. That was, um, before they decided I was no longer a Bloodmarch.”

“Are _those_ assholes the scary people you keep on your wall?”

“No, no. That’s Aunt Tildy and Uncle Merrian. They are both very accepting of me.”

Craig nuzzles into Damien’s throat, wrapping himself further in the man. “Good.” He presses a small kiss against Damien’s collar. “Your turn.”

Damien responds to the kiss with a short, tight hug. “You talk about the time before like you’re very glad to be done with it. What- if you don’t mind my asking. What caused you to, um, change?”

“Two, uh, really fucking big things happened at once that- just kind of knocked me out of that whole...well, lifestyle, I guess? First was, Smashley got pregnant with the twins. Total surprise, never a mistake,” Craig says, and it comes out more fiercely than he intended.

“Of course,” Damien murmurs back.

“The second was that- that my dad, um. Died of a heart attack. Just. Collapsed on his desk one day, couldn’t resuscitate him or anything. He wasn’t like, super unhealthy or anything? So I got checked out. Turns out high blood pressure runs in my family. I made a choice that I wanted to be around to- to see my kid - didn’t know it was twins, then - see my kid grow up. Get married. See my grandkids. I’ve got a medication, and that’s why I stick so strictly to my diet and exercise routine. And then… then I just kind of realized I’m _good_ at it. At helping people figure out how to live their best life. So I started my business.”

Craig takes the water back after that, his throat dry.

“I’m sorry about your father,” Damien says.

“I’m sorry about your parents,” Craig replies.

“Well. My son accepts me for who I am, and I rather think that’s the bigger prize.”

“True.” He leans up a little to kiss Damien’s cheek. “Is the food here yet?”

Damien’s eyes lighten. “Heh, yes, they’ve served our risotto. It looks delicious tonight.” As if on cue, Damien’s stomach grumbles. “Oh! My apologies!”

Craig pulls back. “No, don’t. It’s got to be what, eight? 8:30? You missed dinner because of me.”

“Well, you missed it too.”

With a struggle against blankets and gravity and disease, Craig manages to push himself to his feet. “No, come on. I’m making you dinner.”

“Craig, you’re dead on your feet.”

“You’ve been taking care of me, and now you’re hungry. Come on.”

“You should really be-”

“I’m not taking no for an ans-”

“Craig, you look like shit, and I’m afraid if you cook us anything you’ll end up falling over into it and I’ll have to take you to the hospital to get stitches.”

Craig blinks at Damien’s blunt language. It’s the first time he’s ever heard Damien use a swear word, he’s pretty sure.

“Okay. But I’m coming to the kitchen with you.”

Damien picks up one of the blankets and places it over Craig’s shoulders. “Fine.”

In the kitchen, Damien forces Craig down onto one of the bar stools and starts tooling around the cupboards. “Do you have any meat-free broth? Bullion?”

“Bullion, in the fridge,” Craig confirms. “Low-sodium. There are some fresh veggies in there too, I was going to do a stir fry for myself tomorrow night. Or, um. Ask you over. If tonight went well.”

“I can’t imagine it going any other way,” Damien says with a smile before turning to root in the fridge. He pulls out an onion, carrot, and some peppers. “Well, it’s not going to be anything spectacular, but it’ll have to do.”

“I believe it’s your turn,” Damien says as his elegant fingers competently prep and begin to cut apart the vegetables.

Craig blushes, then coughs. “Um. This one might be a little personal. So, you know. Feel free to not answer.”

The chop-chop-chopping remains steady. “Noted, but we’ve already been very personal.”

Still, Craig waits until Damien’s scooping veggies into the pan, knife on the cutting board, before he asks. “What, um. I don’t know how to ask, really. I’ve, um, been doing some research, and um, I was wondering about, if you, um, have a preference as far as terminology, uh, during sex. Or roles.”

It makes Damien pause. “I’m the first trans man you’ve been with, I assume.”

Craig nods.

“Am I the first man you’ve been with?”

Craig shakes his head. “College. Before Smashley, and uh, sometimes, um. _With_ Smashley there.”

Damien gives him an assessing look. “This is first date stuff?”

“You don’t have to answer, I promise! But no, probably not. I definitely wouldn’t have asked you that in a restaurant.”

“On the stroll home, maybe, though.”

“Not with any sort of expectation attached. More like… when the time comes. So I can know. So I don’t do- something stupid or offensive. I’m still - God, this is embarrassing - I’m still a little unsteady on my feet about the whole thing. Sex, I mean. I don’t want to jump in too quickly.”

Damien leans on the counter while they wait for the thrown-together soup to come to a boil. “I appreciate that. I don’t think I want to jump into bed either. That being said, you’ve been headlining my prurient thoughts for some time now.”

“Ditto,” Craig says, expelling a breath.

Damien grins. “Well. Since that’s on the table. I have a cock, and two holes, but I rather prefer to be the one topping. Not that I don’t switch. But sometimes the front hole makes me dysphoric.”

Craig nods. “I don’t really have a preference, but I’m having a lot more prurient thoughts now.”

Damien laughs, and Craig joins him, even though it hurts a little. Damien comes around the counter to hug Craig from above and press a kiss to the crown of his head. “Oh, dearest, you sound so miserable.”

Craig leans back a little. “Not from the company.”

Damien kisses him once more, then releases him to dish up their bowls of soup. He pushes one in front of Craig, then sits down on the stool next to him.

“Oh-” Craig hops up, grabbing the bottle of Sriracha from the fridge and coming back to drown his soup in it.

“You are the most stereotypical unstereotypical bro I’ve ever met,” Damien says with a laugh.

“Hey, this is going to knock all this gunk right out of my sinuses.” Craig wiggles his eyebrows at Damien. “Gunk and sinus talk? How are those prurient thoughts now, huh?”

Damien gives him a full on belly laugh, and Craig beams as he tucks into his sriracha laced broth. “Oh, I don’t know, do some more half-naked sit ups in your backyard and they’ll come back.”

“Some day instead of trading questions we’ll have to trade prurient thoughts.”

“Yes, but that’s at _least_ fifth date material.”

Craig nods sagely.

They pepper each other with more questions, a sort of lightning round, as they eat, about likes and dislikes, their childhoods, everything. By the time he’s reached the bottom of the bowl, Craig is about to fall asleep in his soup.

“All right, dearest, I think it’s time I tuck you in,” Damien murmurs in his ear, and Craig realizes with a start that he must have drifted off for a bit because Damien’s now standing next to him.

Not protesting at all, Craig leads Damien back to his bedroom. “It looks like shit right now, sorry. Sick.”

They pass the pile of clothes that has accumulated from the girls and him over the last week. He makes a mental note to start taking care of it when he wakes up.

Other than the pile of clothes, and the mountain of tissues, he hopes it’s not too bad. He refluffs the pillows so he can basically sit up while sleeping, for drainage, then kind of just flops down into the bed.

True to his word, Damien pulls the blanket up and kisses Craig’s forehead. “I’m going to get you a glass of water to have here, okay? I want you to drink it, either tonight or before you get out of bed tomorrow. Dr. Bloodmarch’s orders.”

“Yessir.” His eyes droop shut, and he forces them open one last time. “Dames?”

“Yes?” Damien runs a hand over his cheek.

“Thank you. For everything. Uh- I don’t know if it’ll count as a _second_ date? But I’m taking the girls next weekend to see that new Pixar movie, would you like to come with us? I wish I could take you out without the girls, but Smashley only has them twice a month, so I’m afraid that’s all I can offer right now.”

Damien smiles, then leans down to kiss his cheek. “I’d love to go. But I imagine we’ll be on our third or fourth date by then.” He winks, and that’s the moment, Craig will cite later. That’s the moment he knew, for sure. The moment he’ll be thinking of when he slides a ring on Damien’s finger.

At the time, though, the _moment_ blends into sleep as Craig’s eyes finally win the battle and close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited and Posted when my own eyes were trying to droop shut so apologies for any major errors.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bumping up the rating yet again as this time we have achieved actual smut.
> 
> Aka - Damien invites Craig over for a dinner date while the girls are at Smashley's and Lucien is off with his aunt and uncle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not explicitly mentioned, but as consenting mature adults, Damien and Craig talked test results at some point. Safe sex, folks!

Damien ends up being serious about those three or four dates before the next weekend although he’d intended it as a joke. Craig is feeling slightly better on Saturday, so he makes that stir fry he'd mentioned. It's delicious, and Damien greatly appreciates knowing he won't have to fend for himself as a vegetarian in this relationship. Just one more thing Craig has been absolutely accepting of. 

Then on Sunday, they meet up for brunch, tucked into the same side of the booth at the diner, Craig’s hand in his beneath the table, their thighs touching. They're growing more comfortable with it, the touching. 

Monday and Tuesday force them apart as Craig has to catch up from his sick weekend. He ends up working long hours and needing Amanda to babysit. 

Wednesday, Damien always meets with his trans support group; it took awhile but he finally found one that has an average age closer to his own. He's glad there's so much support for young people, of course, but he needs to be able to talk about things they can't understand yet with their current worldview. Lucien has returned to therapy on Wednesdays, too, and they're often both drained afterwards.

Thursday, though, Damien invites the Cahns to his house for a family dinner that even Lucien makes an appearance at. Luce even allows the twins to check out his room, and they come back begging Craig to take them to Dead, Goth, and Beyond when they go to the movie so they can buy something. Craig makes eyes at Damien over their heads and Damien tries not to giggle audibly. 

And so it goes for several weeks, fitting into each others’ lives when they can. Craig has taken to writing him letters back, four so far. Damien has been placing them in an ornate rosewood box he keeps on his dresser. He knows for a fact that Craig has been keeping his letters, too. Damien sighs. He’s … Lord, he’s in deep, and the weird, wonderful thing is, he’s not scared at all. 

He’s nervous, yes, but he’s not scared. 

It’s possible he’s nervous because Craig is feeling better, and Smashley - he sighs internally at using the nickname but she really does prefer it, and he knows all about name preference - has the girls again, and Lucien’s at a concert with Uncle Merrian and Aunt Tildy, which means both their houses are free. There’s been a few moments lately, at the end of the night, when the girls are asleep, that he and Craig have been making out on the couch and had a hard time stopping themselves but for small ears possibly listening in. Both of them can sense the desire coming to a head, and tonight, with Craig coming over for dinner and everyone gone, it would be a natural next step.  


It’s not a bad type of nervous, though, just a normal type of nervous, he tells himself. He’s seen Craig topless but hasn’t done so himself, though he’s shown Craig his binder. He’s had major surgery before - Lucien was a C-section - and having it again hasn’t appealed to him. 

The thing about seeing Craig topless, though, is that he’s- well.  _ Built,  _ for lack of a better word. He’s sculpted, he’s- he’s breathtaking. And Damien- Damien’s had a child. He has stretch marks, and the little round of pudge over his stomach that’s never gone away, and he’s more spindly than muscley. 

Except when he’s sitting in Craig’s lap, Craig’s skin fevered against his, their lips melding together until Damien’s head is spinning, in those moments it’s easy to forget all that. Craig makes him forget. 

Still, he takes extra special care with his preparations for their date. Spends too long, perhaps, on picking out his outfit, down to the undergarments. Redoes his eyes three times until they’re perfect. When he looks in the full-length mirror, he’s satisfied. More than that, his pulse has already picked up just a little: he’s excited. 

There’s a strong, steady knock on the door, and his pulse jumps. He’s already flushing when he opens the door to Craig. Craig looks- Damien has a sudden intake of breath -  _ amazing. _ His fade is fresh, and Damien wants nothing more than to scratch his fingers through it. His skin is back to glowing, instead of the sickly pallor he’d had a few weeks ago. A crisp white button up makes a nice contrast against his skin, the sleeves rolled up his forearms. It’s tucked into a pair of dark wash jeans. He’s a  _ vision. _

He must have a similar effect on Craig, because Craig sort of leans against his door jamb and just drinks him in, a little slack-jawed.  _ “Damien.”  _ He reaches out automatically and pulls Damien close, then makes a little inquiring sound as his lips trail a hairsbreadth away from Damien’s jaw line. 

“Yes,” Damien answers to Craig’s inquiry; he’s seeking permission to kiss, and he does, bringing their lips together, and it’s just as every time: giddiness sweeps through Damien’s blood stream and there’s a  _ melting,  _ they  _ melt _ together like they could become one just from a kiss. Damien loves the feeling of Craig’s lips on his, so much that he turns Craig so he’s pressed against the door, and Damien’s pressing into him, and everything is hot and sweet and perfect. 

There’s movement across the cul-de-sac that catches the edge of Damien’s eye, and he breaks the kiss. They look at each other for a few moments, panting, then Damien turns to see what distracted him. 

Across the cul-de-sac, Brian and Jared are getting back from a fishing trip, and even from here, it’s obvious how enamored Brian is as Jared talks animatedly with his hands. 

Damien looks back to his own heart’s desire and finds Craig’s dark eyes on his. “Where are my manners? Supper should be almost ready.” Indeed, the smell is wafting through from the kitchen. 

Craig straightens away from the door and takes Damien’s hands in his, leaning in to steal another kiss. As he pulls away, he lingers at Damien’s ear, and whispers, “Greeting your boyfriend by pressing him against the door and kissing him brainless isn’t good manners? What if he’s uncouth and prefers it that way?”

Damien shuts the door and circles his arms around Craig’s neck. “Then I suppose I should indulge him. Since he’s just so irresistible.” 

_ “I _ am? Have you seen you?” 

“Well, since I’m not actually a vampire like most of this town believes, yes, yes, I have seen me.”

They laugh together, then slide into another kiss.

When they’re panting again a few minutes later, and they still haven’t left the foyer, Craig breaks it off, then kisses Damien’s nose so he laughs again. “Let’s eat.” 

Damien takes Craig’s hand and brings it up for a kiss while they walk to the kitchen. “Could you pull the veggies from the oven while I toss the pasta together?” 

“It smells so good, Dames.” 

Damien relishes the domesticity of both the nickname and Craig putting on his oven mitts and checking the roasted vegetables. “Thank you, dearest.” 

He tosses the cacio e pepe together while Craig gets the vegetables, and soon enough, they’re sitting at Damien’s table, close enough to trade little touches throughout the meal. The touches charge the electricity between them, Damien an odd mix of relaxed and aroused. 

As they linger over their water, Craig takes his hand and leans into his side, pressing a kiss to his neck then laying his head on Damien’s shoulder. “I really want this, Damien. I want do this with you. I’m just- I’m nervous. Are you?”

Damien plays with the freshly shaved hair at the nape of Craig’s neck. “Yeah. I’m nervous.” 

“Why does that make me feel better?” Craig laughs, Damien feeling the tremor of it in his own body. 

“Because it’s always better to have a companion.” Damien sweeps Craig’s bangs out of his forehead and places a kiss there. 

“That’s the truth, at least as far as I know it.”

“I know why I’m nervous. If you don’t think I’m too bold to ask, why are you?”

Craig smiles a bit. “Not too bold to ask, not when we’re just about to have sex, more than likely.”

“Still, you don’t have to answer,” Damien murmurs. 

“I haven’t had sex in a really long time. Smashley and I - well. River was sort of a one-off deal.” 

Damien hums. “I wager I have you beat, but I still empathize.”

“It’s just a lot different than my hand,” Craig says with a laugh. 

“Yes, rather different,” Damien replies, smiling and laughing with him. 

“With Smashley, I know - well, knew - her style, what she liked, what she didn’t. I haven’t, well, had a new lover for years. What if I suck? What if you hate it?”

“What if I’m not what you expect? What if you don’t like having sex with a trans man?” Damien answers almost without thinking. “Or an old man,” he says, quieter. 

Craig turns in his arms and cups his face, then brings him in for a soft kiss. “Then- then I still have an amazing boyfriend, the most kindhearted person I know, who looks dead sexy in his Goth gear and adorable in glasses and a polo, who can cook a mean veggie lasagna, who treats me and my kids with the utmost care and respect, who takes care of me when I’m sick, who-” 

Craig finally seems to run out of steam, and  _ Thank God _ is all Damien can think, because he’s floored, rocked to his very core. 

“So who gives a fuck if the sex doesn’t work out right. We’ve still got this,” Craig says, eyes on his, one of his hands finding one of Damien’s and locking their fingers together. 

Damien uses his free hand to cup the back of Craig’s neck and pull him close for a crushing kiss. He’s filled with feeling -  _ love, _ says some part deep inside that he won’t acknowledge for a long time. “Come to bed with me,” he whispers against Craig’s lips. 

Craig nods, a desperate look on his face that Damien is suddenly extremely glad to see. Craig’s hand is a little sweaty, a little shaky, as Damien leads him upstairs to his bedroom. 

The center of the room is his pride and joy, a steal from a flea market, an ornate wooden head and foot board in the Victorian style, with a modern king mattress - blessedly less lumpy than the old kind. He and Craig come to a stop beside the bed. 

Damien begins to undo all of the buttons and laces that mark Victorian clothing, and Craig reaches out to help. With small murmurs of guidance, Craig peels back Damien’s vest and top to reveal alabaster skin and the black of the binder. Damien directs him in how to take that off as well, and for the first time, Damien’s topless in front of Craig, trying to sort through dual feelings of exposure and the comfort of his trust in Craig. 

Craig sweeps his hands over the newly exposed skin, then pulls Damien in for a kiss as his hands explore. He feels Craig’s fingers find his C-section scar, and his stretchmarks, then come up to play over his nipples, tugging lightly. Craig pulls back, an inquiring brow raised. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” Damien says a little breathlessly. “But I feel we should even the odds a little.” Craig grins as Damien begins to work on his shirt, a much simpler process, and then Craig’s pecs and abs are on full display and Damien’s fingers are doing their own exploration.  _ I claim this land for Damien,  _ he thinks absurdly, giggling a little at the thought. 

“What?” Craig asks, laughing along with him. 

“Oh- well. Just. How to put this eloquently?” Damien hums. “You are exceedingly attractive, and, um. Well.” He coughs. “Mine.”

The flush that’s already gracing Craig’s cheeks deepens. “I like that.” 

“Good.” Damien leans in to nip possessively at Craig’s throat. Loves hearing the response, a little moan that vibrates through Craig’s Adam’s apple. He sucks in, marking Craig’s skin, just a little. Finds he likes the look and move across Craig’s throat to make another. Imagines Craig in one of his workout tanks, on the treadmill at the gym, marked up by him. 

He groans, his fingers working their way slowly down Craig’s body until he’s undoing the button and pulling down the fly of Craig’s jeans. Craig’s wearing orange and blue striped boxer briefs underneath, and Damien has a quick fantasy of Craig lounging around his house in  _ just _ the briefs before he pushes both down Craig’s hips. Craig makes quick work of kicking them the rest of the way off. 

Damien’s slack are off in another thirty seconds, and then, before they really linger too long, they’re pulling each other down onto the bed. They’re on their sides, wrapped in each other, one of Damien’s legs hooked over Craig’s hip and pulling him in close, arms draped over shoulders, mouths melded. Craig’s cock is sliding over his stomach, precum rubbing into his skin, while Damien’s own slick is flowing freely down his thigh and onto Craig’s hip. 

They hover for minutes like that in a beautiful friction, working each other up, but it’s not enough to get off, and Damien likes it, likes the frustration, the slowness, the feeling like he’s never going to find the edge of orgasm because Craig’s going to keep placing it just beyond his reach, and the climb is almost better than the release-

_ “Damien,” _ Craig moans, and Damien attacks his throat again, sucking on Craig’s pulse point. There’s no way he’s stronger than Craig, but Craig is still pushed easily to his back when Damien wants. Now he’s over him, still riding his muscled thigh as Craig’s cock bobs and strains. Craig is making increasingly desperate whimpers, a beautiful sound. 

Damien wraps his hand around Craig’s cock, the touch causing a jolt through Craig’s body like electricity, and then he  _ keens _ for Damien as Damien strokes him. His whole body is arching into it, his abs bunching and releasing and his chest heaving and Damien’s name on his lips like a benediction. 

He comes, shoots stripes across his own stomach, and Damien watches, strokes, milks Craig’s cock until Craig shies away, then kisses Craig through the aftermath. His own hips are still working his cock against Craig’s thigh, the friction keeping him on edge. 

Craig groans into the kiss, then uses the strength Damien knew he had to push Damien over onto  _ his  _ back. He kisses over Damien’s cheek and down to his ear, whispering dirty things there, filthy, really, that thrill through Damien’s body and heat his blood to boiling over. His fingers find Damien’s cock and circle over it easily with the amount of slick there is. Damien thrusts up to meet his fingers, eyes closed, letting Craig’s sweet, dirty voice fill his head and push everything else out of it. When Craig nips at his earlobe, Damien arches, crying out, coming under the continued sweep of Craig’s fingers. 

He lets Craig take him up again for another quick climax, the peak closer this time, before he pushes Craig’s fingers away. He turns them to their sides again and buries his face in Craig’s neck, pulling the man as close as possible to calm down. 

They’re a sticky, sweating mess, and Damien is sure he’s got raccoon eyes, but he can’t stop pressing small kisses to Craig’s collarbone as Craig holds him tightly. “I think the sex part is going to work,” he quips.

He feels Craig’s laugh rumble up from deep inside his belly, and then Damien’s joining him, and then they’re both laughing so hard their eyes are threatening to stream.

Damien wipes a laughter-tear from Craig’s cheek and then kisses him. “I have a beautiful clawed-foot tub the size of a small swimming pool and a bath bomb that makes one smell like roses. Would you like to join me, dearest?” 

“Hell yeah, baby,” Craig murmurs, sweeping him into another kiss. 


	6. In Sickness and In Health

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The February Ficlet Challenge made me do it, guys. This is day 11: Character b has amnesia. There is a lot of hurt/comfort in here.
> 
> Also, this fic takes places a couple of years after the last one, and some happy changes have occurred. 
> 
> One month. Twenty-eight prompts. Twenty-eight pairings. One ficlet a day. Write Fast.

Damien’s in the middle of updating the cat and dog listings on the shelter’s website (a task he takes care of daily, happily, because the shelter’s turnover rate is tremendous and beautiful and lovely and brings him great pride and joy) when his cell phone rings. 

It’s a local number he doesn’t recognize; not the school - although Lucien has graduated, he’s on the girls’ emergency contact list after Craig - not anyone in the cul-de-sac.  _ Hmm. _ His “Hello?” is somewhat distracted as he works on the website. 

“Hello, is this Damien Bloodmarch-Cahn?”

“Yes, this is he.” 

“You’re listed as the emergency contact for Craig Bloodmarch-Cahn…”

Damien’s blood is pounding in his ears by the time the call is through. Craig tripped at the gym, hit his head on a weight, and was knocked unconscious. He’s at the hospital. He’s not dead, he’s alive, but the words ‘possible brain trauma’ were used...quite a lot.  

He spills all of this out to Mary in a panic, because for some reason he just can’t quite hold it together. Mary grabs his shoulders, centering him just the tiniest bit. “I’m going to drive you to the hospital, okay Damien? You’re not going to be alone.” She pulls him in for a quick hug, then slips his cloak over his shoulders and guides him out of the shelter. 

Damien is numb, and he’s so grateful that Mary took charge. He can’t feel, he can't think - he’s  _ numb. _ He barely registers Mary using her car bluetooth to call Jared and ask him to pick up the girls, because right, it’s almost time for school to end, isn’t it. Damien pulls the cloak around himself - he’s so cold, shivering - and worries his wedding ring in circles around his finger. 

“Listen, Dames, babe, whatever the prognosis is, we’re going to help him recover, okay? You’re not alone, either of you. The cul-de-sac has your back, or I’ll have their  _ souls.” _

He laughs, a little sobbing gasp that sounds harsh in the car. “Thank you, sweetest.” 

He somehow has it together, is over most of the shock, by the time they’re talking to a doctor. Craig’s already had a CT scan and now he’s resting. Damien feels like his head is on a string as he nods along with the doctor’s words. Concussion, on the higher side of mild, but no immediate worries as far as bleeding that may cause sudden death. He's walking well, pupils aren't dilated, but he is confused and tired.  


And that’s- well. That’s a relief, and he lets out a whoosh of breath. “Can I see him?”

“Yes, I can take you back. I’ll meet with you both later to discuss further treatment for TBI, okay?”

Damien manages a nod, licking his dry lips, and squeezes Mary’s hand one last time before following the doctor back. The lights are off in Craig’s little room, and Craig’s eyes are closed. Damien pulls up a chair, and takes Craig’s left hand, massaging over where his ring would be. Damien hopes it’s in his effects. 

“Hello, dearest,” he murmurs, not wanting to disturb the relative peace - aside from the steady beeping of his heart monitor - of the room. 

Craig’s brow furrows, and he squints against what little light there is. 

“You don’t have to open your eyes. Rest. We’ll get you home soon, and I’m putting you straight into bed.” 

Craig frowns. “Where am I now?”

Damien tries to quiet the panic slicing through him by leaning forward to kiss Craig’s hand, and rest his forehead against it. Memory loss is normal, the doctor said. Confusion. It’s all part of the TBI. “In the hospital, but we’ll be going home soon.” 

“I don’t remember what happened.” Craig’s brow is still furrowed, his mouth still frowning. Everything about his face looks tight and tense and worried, and no, that won’t do. 

“You don’t have to, darling. You just get to lay there and look pretty. You have absolutely nothing to worry about, we’ve taken care of everything.” He leans up, smoothing out the wrinkles in Craig’s forehead, whispering, soothing. “Just keep your eyes closed, and drift, Craig. That’s all you have to do. You don’t have to worry about anything.” He presses a kiss, right at the scar in Craig’s eyebrow, and hears Craig make a little sound in his throat, soft and comforting. “I love you, too.” 

Before they go through discharge, the doctor sits with Damien and explains everything he needs to watch for, everything he needs to do for Craig. 

“He may get irritable, especially because he’s such an energetic, athletic person, Damien.” Her voice is soft. “A lot of the TBIs I see come from teenagers playing contact sports, and irritability is the number one symptom that gets reported back to me, as well as other extreme emotions. He’ll be restless, and he’ll want to push himself before he should, which could injure him further.” 

“I won’t let him.” Where the doctor’s voice is soft, Damien’s is all steel. 

She smiles. “Great! The good news is, cardio is actually good for him. If he starts feeling like his brain is hitting a wall, take him for a walk, or a hike. Something that keeps his body distracted. It’ll help.”

He nods, smiling too, because he’s glad to hear that he won’t have to bar Craig from all physical exercise. He can’t really imagine a Craig Cahn (Bloodmarch-Cahn, he corrects himself) that doesn’t work out. He gathers Craig’s things, is relieved to see a little packet with his watch and ring and phone in the bag. 

Mary stuck around, because of course she did, so she’s the one that drives them home, acting like a chauffeur while Damien sits in back, holding Craig’s hand tight in his. When Mary pulls up to the Bloodmarch house, though, Craig’s brows furrow over his sunglasses, and he sort of walks in the direction of his old house before faltering, clearly confused. 

Damien steadies him, stops him on the sidewalk, cupping his face. “You live with me now, you and the girls, okay?” It’s breaking Damien’s heart that he now lives in a world in which this is his normal, that it has to be, that the love of his life has to be told that he sleeps in his husband’s house, with his husband.  _ At least he recognizes me,  _ Damien thinks. 

Craig nods, slowly, but stops abruptly, wincing in pain.  


“It’s okay, dearest, we’re just going to head up the stairs now, okay?”

"Yeah, okay. This sucks, baby."

"Yes, it very much does." As much as he hates to see Craig in pain, he can't help but smile a little at the term of endearment.

Craig’s squeezing his hand, hard, as they walk up, and though he wants to push Craig straight to bed, instead, he sets him up in the living room. He can pull the drapes and make it relatively dark, but he hopes that not being in bed will help ease some of Craig’s innate restlessness.

He brushes a kiss over Craig’s forehead. “The doctor said you could sleep, if you wanted. It’s past dinner time. Would you like some broth?”

“Broth would be amazing.” With his eyes closed, he pulls Damien down to the edge of the couch, and hugs him. “Sorry I forgot, earlier.” 

“It’s okay, my dearest, don’t you worry about it.” 

Jared brings the girls over after the twins have finished their homework, and they all have some quiet time with Craig before they head up to bed. Damien performs the nightly ritual of checking on them that Craig would normally do, and reports back to Craig, now tucked up in their large four-poster, that they are, indeed, still alive and breathing. Craig cuddles up against him, drifting in and out of sleep while Damien rubs over his back.  _ In sickness and in health, _ he vows again in his mind before he drifts off, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and then Craig recovered and everyone lived happily ever after, the end!

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is animalasaysrauer!
> 
> Thanks for reading! I will be adding more to this story, so please subscribe. If you enjoyed what I have so far, please leave a comment or kudos (or comment!)!


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